Close The Door
by AlreadyPainfullyGone
Summary: Sam/Puck/Finn - Sam is horrified to find out what Puck and Finn mean by 'guy time' in Puck's basement. Then, he gives it some thought... Set season 3  possible spoilers  First Glee fic. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

_So...I don't really write for anything that isn't Supernatural, and I do watch Glee. I don't know it as well, but I had some ideas and...anyway, I hope this isn't totally shit.I'll only continue it if people want me too...but, here's the start. _

_BTW – this will be Finn/Puck/Sam _

The only thing that could be said about Puck's basement was that it was honestly described.

Sam scuffles after Finn, down the creaking wooden steps, standard with the basic, cookie cutter house design. Downstairs is tiny, a brushed concrete floor, a partition that squares away the washer/dryer combo, and the washing line of panties and bra's belonging to Puck's Mom. The rest of the tiny, oil scented space is given over to a couch that bleeds stuffing out onto the floor, the fibres mixing with dust bunnies and motor oil stains on the floor.

There's a cluster of pool cleaning gear in the corner, but, in front of the couch there's a pristine (if old) TV, and a tangle of wires hooking up two consoles (Xbox 360 and PS2) and an old VCR.

VHS tapes and games, in and out of boxes, are stacked beside the TV, and Puck flops down onto the couch, waving a hand at the pile.

"Pick one, so I can beat your ass at it."

Finn just shakes his head, smiling as he goes to look through the games. Sam stands awkwardly, unwilling to sit down beside Puck, who's still a stranger (and a little scary) without Finn there as a buffer.

He doesn't know why he agreed to this 'guy time' thing anyway.

Well, ok, he did. It was because he was the new guy, again. Transferring back had only made that clearer, and he was still struggling to make friends, even in the glee club, thanks to Santana being so acidic towards him, and what with his permanent address being on Finn's couch. This was a last ditch effort at fitting in.

So when Puck had accosted him, after practice, and told him that he was coming to his house at the weekend – Sam had agreed.

Puck's exact words had been, 'New guy, get your xbox on, Saturday, my place."

Sam had blinked, looked at Finn, who was hovering on the other side of Puck, looking neither concerned or surprised by this sudden proposal.

"Uh..."

"Guys, guns and beer. Total dude time." Puck slapped him on the shoulder and left Sam in his wake, feeling blindsided and surprised.

Finn had leant against the lockers next to him.

"We were talking and...because all the girls here are...well...crazy. A guy's day would be a good change up." Finn looked after Puck's retreating back. "He still thinks you're new. Don't think he noticed you before."

So he was invisible. But, prepared to let that go, and join the guys. Sam thought most of the girls were ok. Tina was...well, a little scary about the whole 'goth' thing. Brittany was alright. Santana was...ok, a bitch, but in small doses...

Quinn had kind of burnt him. But...

Finn was watching him.

"Yeah, me and Puck were both there with Quinn, and she is...kind of a high maintenance, crazy person. Glee's just kind of a diva magnet I guess." He looked for a moment like he wanted to say more, but settled on, 'And dude, seriously, don't put your arm in the Rachel Berry bear trap."

So, Sam had been committed to 'guy time'.

And now here it was.

Puck and Finn unspool controllers and start on some kind of fighting game. Sam perches nervously on the arm of the couch, watching them.

When Finn loses, he passes his controller to Sam, and Sam struggles with the controls, but manages to stay even with Puck, blow for blow. After a while, Puck glances at him, half admiringly, and when Sam finally breaks their neck and neck score and delivers a death blow, Puck actually grins and slaps his arm.

Sam actually starts to relax.

A few more rounds, and Puck puts on a DVD and turns out the lights. Some horror flick, a few years out of date and more ridiculous than scary. He gets some illicit beers out of a box under the couch, and they drink, and watch. Finn sitting on the floor between Sam and Puck.

It's nice. Hanging out with the guys, just being normal, a teenager. For a while, when he'd come back and stripper-gate had yet to pass, Sam had felt like a freak. Almost like he'd crossed a line into one of those cautionary stories about drug addicts, selling their bodies in public men's rooms.

It doesn't get weird till he looks down, and notices that Puck is...well, his hand is on the cushion by Finn's shoulder, and his fingers are...Sam has to squint in the dark to see...stroking the side of Finn's neck.

Sam feels a cold ball of clay settle in his stomach, he feels like he's been eating chalk. The beer is bitter in his mouth.

He pretends he doesn't see, goes back to watching the movie. But after a while, Finn leans a little further towards Puck and almost, but not quite, rests his head against Puck's knee, like a faithful dog.

Sam inches to his own side of the couch, body pressing to the armrest. His legs ache from tensing, and the silvery light of the screen flickers over his own personal hell.

It's not until Puck's hand slides around to the other side of Finn's neck, stroking around the line of his collar, and Finn's fingers reach out and brush the cuff of Sam's pant leg, that Sam stands up with a jolt and heads for the stairs.

"Hey..." Puck snaps out. "Where're you going?"

Sam doesn't trust himself to speak, but he's stopped by Finn grabbing his arm as he sets his first foot onto the stairs.

"It's ok." Finn tells him, and he's blushing, but he doesn't look ashamed. Not totally anyway.

"This...this is why you invited me?" Sam says, and he's surprised by the hurt he feels. "To see you two...do that?" He shakes his head in horror. "To join in?"

Finn shakes his head. "It's not...I mean, we're not..."

Puck sighs dramatically. "We're not gay."

Sam snorts without humour.

"We're not." Puck snaps. "Do we look like Hummel and his boyfriend? We're just..." He waves his arms openly. "We're guys. We're horny. We do shit to each other that none of the girls'll do...and we're not as diva-crazy."

Sam looks at Finn again in disbelief. But, to his dismay, Finn doesn't disagree with Puck's sweeping statement.

"We thought you might be into it." Finn mutters. "I mean, you were working as a...well, you're different, to the other guys." He blinks up at Sam, eyes forlorn under their fringe. "It's not like we could just ask you..."

"And you looked at me...like _I _was the freak." Sam gets out, feeling his eyes sting. "This is...screwed up."

"Sam, wait..."

Finn stands helplessly at the bottom of the stairs, watching Sam run up them. He pauses at the door.

"I won't tell anyone...but, keep your 'guy time' to yourself. I don't want any part in it."

And with that he left the basement, shunting the door shut behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for the encouragement...thought I'd have a think about how Finn/Puck happened..._

Finn hadn't wanted it to happen.

Not exactly true, but true enough to make him stop suddenly in the middle of something – brushing his teeth, lacing his shoes – and wonder how it had come to this. How he'd gotten here.

He hadn't wanted it to happen. Meaning, he hadn't ever dreamed anything like this was possible. And he dreamed about a lot of stuff. Not knowing about it, made it kinda hard to want.

But now that he knew, he wanted it, like crazy.

Puck and he hadn't been friends for a while, maybe it was back when glee was just starting out, a small club, mixed loyalties and all that 'football or glee' stuff that Coach had put them through. That and Quinn, and the baby...There were a lot of reasons.

But they'd gotten on ok.

And then they'd gone out drinking, taking Finn's Mom's car up to the woods to meet Mike and some of the others. Puck had needed a ride. But after a half a bottle of cheap vodka each, neither of them could drive home. The others had left, but Finn had insisted they stay 'till they sobered up. Finn had scrunched up in the driver's seat, and Puck had stretched out in the back. But, the night was kinda cold, and the vodka in his veins might as well have been ice water. Finn had wound up muscling his way into the back, lying on the floor space, a funky smelling blanket over him.

After a while, Puck's voice had come out of the dark.

"This seat's killing my back."

A long silence.

"Get in the trunk with me?"

Maybe it had all been Puck's idea...Finn was never sure how much Puck planned, and how much was just luck and spur of the moment choices.

Finn had pulled down the seats, exposing the long interior of the trunk. It was darker than the car in there, if that was possible, and it smelt like a dog that the car's last owners had had. Still, they climbed in, and split the blanket between them.

So it was cold and dark and smelt like old dog, and puck edged over, and Finn had edged back. But it was just...being warm, not something they'd tell anyone about, but not something they'd actually have to hide.

But then their hands touched on the blanket, just fingers brushing, but it made Finn freeze. Trying to get comfortable, Puck moved again, and wound up with an arm thrown out lazily, landing on Finn's waist.

It was kinda nice. So nice that Finn had moved closer, and leaned and...somehow, in the dark, put his head on Puck's chest.

Maybe it was being that close. That close up, skin is just skin. Guy skin and girl skin, what was the difference really? 'cept fruity lipgloss and perfume and that powdery make-up feel. Guy skin was still warm, and Puck's was soft, but then, all skin was kinda soft - dude's weren't metal or rock or something, he just felt like Finn did, only a different body. One Finn could touch.

Maybe it was just that, the touching thing.

Either way, arms around each other turned into hands touching clothes, then under clothes, slipping into shirts and fingering waistbands. Finn's skin got hot, and Puck started to sweat, and their shirts kind of tangled up and away, and then they were touching each other, skin on skin. It was easy in the dark, to forget who they were, and Finn wasn't thinking about glee or football or Rachel or his Mom when Puck's quick, dry mouth hit his.

He was just on touching, and burning with how good it felt to have someone else to touch, to put their hands on him.

Struggling out of his pants while lying down was hard, but he managed it. Puck's jeans came off too, and all Finn could hear was blood in his ears, pounding, and the air going in and out of his lungs – not enough air. The trunk was too hot, the fabric on his back prickling – sweat on both of them, and he couldn't breathe with hands on him like that.

His brain wouldn't think back, or forwards, or anywhere outside of the dark little space they were in. And he was rubbing against a hot body, which was rubbing back, and it felt to good that the amount of air in the trunk seemed to halve, until his lungs were burning and his head was throbbing, and he'd made the first real sound of the last eternity, crying out and squeezing the other body tight as his body flared, and seized...and finally...stopped.

It took longer for the body on him, warm and slick and strong. But Finn had lolled sleepily on the hard bottom of the trunk, eyes drifting shut, and he'd let it happen – just let that collection of hot body parts writhe on him, taking until there was nothing left to take.

They'd gone to sleep blind and happy, and woken up awkward, stiff from the cramped trunk, not looking at each other.

Finn had gone home and showered, and tried to forget the unforgettable.

After a few days of crippling humiliation, walking around like a puppy with its tail down, where Finn had closed his eyes and bitten his tongue every time he remembered that night – it faded to be like a dream.

He almost convinced himself that it hadn't happened.

Puck didn't seem to register it as an event. After a week of strained silence, and awkward lack of eye contact, things had gone back to how they'd been before. Not friendly, but...ok. They weren't buddies, they didn't talk if they weren't in glee, or at practice.

But sometimes, under his faded duvet, when Kurt was at Blaine's...Finn would call out in his head, begging an invisible body, with Puck's name.

When they'd all gone up to the woods, drinking again. Puck got a ride from Mike, and Finn had gone alone. It was a thing, he just had to go.

Again, he drank, avoided Puck, and downed paper cups of vodka and soda, and then a few beers.

He didn't drive home, but watched the other headlights drift away as he lay down on the back seat.

The rap on the window had surprised him.

Puck was as buzzed as he was, and they'd left themselves outside when they'd crawled into the trunk.

After that...they both wanted it. Wanted it even when it was daylight, even when they weren't drunk. It was better than being alone and turned on. Better than trying to get on with the glee girls, and there was no risk of one of them getting pregnant.

It was great, almost dizzying, being free like that.

The golden rule? Never tell anyone.

Until Sam.

But...Puck had wanted Sam to join them, just as much as Finn had. Another guy, making it less personal, less private. Less of a relationship.

It was just...guy time.

Fun.

Finn hadn't wanted it to happen.

But he didn't want it to stop.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello! Sorry this took so long to update :P_

_By the way, my novel, 'Me and Mine' and m/m gay priest romance, is available FREE on amazon for the next four days. There are links on my profile page. _

Things at home had gotten really awkward.

Finn and Sam had been getting along (at least as well as they could, given their combined history with Quinn and their clashes over football) they'd kind of had to, with Sam staying with them while his parents were trying to find a place to stay back in town.

Since Finn and Kurt's parents had gotten married, they'd moved, and Finn had his own room, which, up until that weekend, he'd been sharing with Sam.

Now, even though it still looked like sharing – Finn never really spent time with Sam at home. He saw him in school, in glee, and at dinner. They never spoke, aside from a forced little 'hi' or 'morning'. Sam went out of his way to make sure that they didn't touch, not even when they had to sit next to each other on the couch. No one seemed to have noticed that anything was wrong. Finn supposed it looked just the same to everyone else. They were even still sharing a room. But, Sam changed in the bathroom, and, once everyone had gone to bed, Sam would leave the bedroom and go downstairs to sleep on the couch.

It took a week and a half for Finn to call him on it.

It was dark, and everything in the house was quiet when Sam slid out of his makeshift bed on the floor, wearing a long pair of sweats and a long sleeved shirt. He crept over the floor to the bedroom door and turned the handle. But it was locked.

"I've got the key." Finn snapped on the lamp by his bed and sat up, sick of pretending to sleep when, each night, Sam's sneaking out hurt more than the last. "Are we ever going to talk about what happened?"

Sam's face was harder than Finn had ever seen it. "Give me the key."

"Not until you talk to me." Finn furrowed his brow. "I'm sick of you treating me like I'm...contagious, or something."

Sam's face went dark. "You expect things to be normal after what you did to me?"

"I didn't do anything..."

"You invited me to a freaking sex party." Sam hissed vehemently. "How is that normal? What the hell did you think it was going to be like after that?"

"You're okay with Kurt...I didn't know you were such a..."

"Don't. Okay? Don't make this about Kurt, or Blaine, or...gay guys in general. You told me yourself, you're not gay – which makes what you're doing, what you tired to bring me into – completely unnatural."

"So...you're mad at me, for...what? inviting you? Or for enjoying what you turned down?" Finn's voice twisted with lack of understanding, and Sam's cheeks darkened with a furious blush.

Finn wasn't dumb, for all that people seemed to think he was. Okay, so he didn't get stuff like math sometimes, and yeah, he'd say things without thinking them through – but he knew when something was just plain wrong. Him and Puck? Weird, but not wrong.

This situation right here though, that was playing out in his bedroom? – that was wrong.

He frowned at Sam. "Is...is that it? You're angry because...you wish you'd stayed. And you think it's my fault for inviting you?"

Sam's glare intensified. "Shut up."

"You wanted to stay with me and Puck." Finn's almost surprised. He'd expected Sam to be cool with it at the time, but now, when Sam had been so vocal in hating them... "You still want it? Us?"

Sam jerked his stare away from Finn and looked down at the floor on his left.

"You're not getting out of this room 'till you talk to me." Finn murmured.

Sam threw him a burning glare, and scrambled back into his bed, turning to face the wall, blocking Finn out.

Finn climbed out of bed and crossed the room, dropping into a crouch by Sam's tense body.

"I know how much it sucks, being lonely, having no one there to just be with..."

Sam kicked out at him, feet tangled in blankets, Finn dodged the attack, and caught Sam's covered ankles in his hands. Sam struggled, and Finn let go almost immediately.

"Leave me alone." Sam muttered, but Finn could tell he wasn't angry anymore. Mostly he just sounded tired.

"I'm going to...just, stop acting like I'm a freak, just because I like having someone there for me." Finn said quietly, standing up and padding back to bed. He got back under the sheets, and clicked off the lamp, lying on his side in the dark and feeling the silence around him grow a heart, and eyes, and teeth.

"Why Puck?" Sam asked, eventually.

"He was there." Finn knew it was more than that. Without Puck, it probably never would have happened. Puck had the kind of attitude that meant he didn't care, about what people thought, about what he should think. He just...decided, and went with it. Finn didn't know anyone else like that, and he knew that he'd never have made the first move with any other guy.

Another long, strained silence filled the space between their beds.

"You can do better."

"He's my friend." Finn said, defensively.

Sam snorted. "He got your girlfriend pregnant, and he made out with Rachel...He's a selfish ass."

Finn couldn't argue. What he said instead was – "He doesn't just take stuff."

"I bet." Sam's voice cracks a little, and Finn turns his face into the cool softness of his pillow, his throat feeling tight.

"So, what do you do?" Sam asks, and Finn feels his skin prickle.

"You don't want to know."

"You ashamed?"

"No...just, you didn't want to stick around, and every time I try to talk to you, you get mad...so, I figure you don't want to know. And you're just asking to make me feel bad about it."

Sam's silent for a while.

"Tell me."

Finn swallows.

"Just...we just talk, and do regular guy stuff..."

"And then?"

"And then...we were drunk, it was a cold night, it happened. In the trunk of a car. It just happened, and then...I don't know, it kept happening - neither of us want to stop."

"...what happened in the car?"

Finn lay on his back, and drew in a breath that sounded too loud in the darkness. "We touched, by accident...then we started kissing..." he licked his suddenly too dry lips. "He's...a really, good, kisser." He could feel himself flushing. "He put his hands under my shirt...wait, maybe I put mine under his? Anyway, it felt, like when a chick does it, but a little different...then we took our shirts off – that really was. Different, I mean."

Blankets rustle and Finn forces himself to stay still, the stagey rustle happens again, and he tips his head sideways on the pillow, watching Sam's body as it arches a little off the floor, wriggling.

He looks quickly away, but he knows now. Sam's getting out of his sweats.

Finn's heart beats a little faster, but he goes on with his story. "Then, uh...our pants. Underwear. My underwear anyway, Puck wasn't wearing any. And...then we were naked."

"And then?" Sam's voice is surrounded by the sounds of his tongue sliding deliciously, his wet lips parting. Even his breath sounds hot and humid.

"We were, uh...rubbing, together...like when you're making out with a girl, only...without clothes, and he was a guy so..."

"You could feel him?"

Finn definitely wasn't imagining the need that seemed to swell in Sam's voice with each passing second. His skin got a little hotter, and Finn could feel himself start to flush and sweat - turned on by Sam's voice. Not even by the words he was saying, but the voice, and what Finn knew Sam was doing to himself.

"I could feel him." Finn licked his lips again, and found himself almost panting. "I...um...he was already...hard." The word foreign in his mouth – he never used it out loud with girls, and definitely not around guys. Not even Puck. "Against my leg...he rubbed it on me, on my thigh. It was...weird. Uh...kinda familiar, but different? And he was heavy and, touching me..."

"How'd it feel?"

And this time Finn hears without a doubt what Sam is doing, the shuffle of blankets, and the almost frantic, half muffled sounds of his hand under the sheets.

"Want me to show you?" The words come out on accident, and Finn blinks of a few seconds, unsure as to what he's just said.

Sam, and his fist, go abruptly still.

"What you're doing? You know it would feel a whole lot better if someone was doing it with you...and, I'm here. I want to."

Silence greets his proposal.

Finn sighs, frustrated and embarrassed. "You spend all that time working out, and...no one ever gets to see you...you don't get anything from the girls and...maybe if you did, you wouldn't feel so crappy all the time..."

A weight dipped the edge of the bed.

Finn sat up, and saw the naked shadow of Sam, painted grey and blurry by the shadows. The other boy's teeth sat firmly in the softness of his lip, and his body was locked up with the cold, and nervousness.

Finn pulled back the sheets and let Sam crawl on top of him. Then he covered them back over.


End file.
